The Jambon's connected to the . . .

Funny bone. Sorry, my coffee maker is broken and my venti soy latte is still too hot to drink. This morning Girlie brought in her book about France to discuss our trip in January. She's remarkably excited. She wants to practice ordering a ham sandwich in french (thus the title of the post). Anybody who knows my Girlie knows that new situations are tough on her. But I guess the near constant traveling we've done during her short lifetime has made a trip to France seem exciting rather than dangerous. (If any of you tells her about the rioting I swear I'll punish you.) She won't play sports involving balls (too dangerous), she won't ride a bike (too dangerous), she panics at loud noises, she's already decided that she's going to adopt because childbirth sounds too tricky, and don't even ask her about roller skates. BUT, ask her to spend 12 hours in airports and airplanes flying off to very different time zones where you have to say sok jablkovy (or something close to that in Poland) to order apple juice, and she's as cool as a cucumber. She's unbelievably good on airplanes and at fancy foreign restaurants. She loves art museums and we can spend hours in foreign grocery stores looking at food labels. She's Mini Me!